


Control

by Dewcake (dewcake)



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-30
Updated: 2012-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-15 07:55:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/524945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dewcake/pseuds/Dewcake





	Control

Only a few months ago Stiles wouldn’t have been able to recognize the sound that he heard behind him. Now he knew it all too well, and the twang of a bow loosing an arrow brought a wave of fear. Another sound he was beginning to know far too well came immediately after: a sharp growl of pain, Derek faltering behind him. 

Stiles skidded to a stop as soon as his mind registered what was happening, his sneakers twisting and slipping against the dew slicked grass. In the split second it took him to turn around another arrow had been shot, striking Derek in the middle of his back, and taking him to his knees. 

Normal arrows didn’t take down Derek Hale. Arrows tipped with wolfsbane did. 

With quivering hands balled up into fists, Stiles stepped in front of Derek.

“Stiles, what are you doing?” Derek growled at him, his voice full of urgency and pain as he yanked the arrow from his knee.

Excellent question. What was he doing? Here he was using himself as a human shield for some grumpy, sour werewolf that still kinda scared him, and not more than a dozen paces away stood Allison, a new arrow notched. Her lips were pressed firmly together, a merciless stare fixed on Derek. It was Allison, but not Allison.

It really wasn’t the best time but Stiles couldn’t help but give a small, breathy laugh, shrug his shoulders, and lick his lips nervously.

“Saving you, obviously,” he said, glancing quickly over his shoulder. 

Derek was still on the ground, one arrow at his feet, and his hand holding onto the one in his back. The arrows were clearly having an affect on the werewolf, whose furrowed brow was covered by a thin sheen of sweat. Or perhaps that was from the effort of keeping himself in control, ‘cause Stiles could see that whole red-eyed alpha thing going on, and it probably wouldn’t be good if he totally wolfed out right now. You know, not with the slightly manic huntress in front of them, seeking her revenge. If the arrow pointed at him was any indicator, she definitely had enough motivation without Derek’s help.

“Get out of the way,” Allison demanded. She had come a few steps closer, her bow still drawn to the cheek, and her aim adjusted to Stiles’ chest. 

A painful swallow was pushed down his throat as another ill-timed nervous laugh bubbled up. Oh, god. He hoped that didn’t provoke her more. Again, not that she needed more provoking. Speaking of provoking, was he shaking his head in response to her? Yeah. Yeah, he definitely was. 

And she was taking a step closer, her bow drawn a little tighter. The coldness was gone, but the alternative was worse. There was anger there. Just anger.

He probably didn't even have time to cringe, but when Stiles did open one eye after a moment’s hesitation, there was an arrow directly in front of him. A static arrow, though. Why was it…? 

Derek’s hand was around it. Which meant Derek had caught it. Which meant that if he hadn’t be quick enough—

A sharp crack as Derek’s snapped the arrow in two interrupted his train of thought.

“Oh my god,” he blurted out, his feet shuffling hastily back. You know what? Derek could take care of the shielding stuff. He was obviously better at it. Sort of. There was still that arrow sticking out of his back, though the werewolf didn’t appear to notice it right now. No, he was too busy staring straight ahead at Allison with his eyes glowing red. But he didn’t move. Just stared with that mixed glare of disapproval and anger that had first prompted Stiles to refer to him as a sourwolf.

And Allison? Well, Allison looked terrified. Her bow was lowered, lips slightly parted to let out a quick breath, and eyes transfixed not on Derek, but on Stiles. Shock had taken over her features. She had lowered her gaze now, her head giving a few barely perceptible shakes, and lips moving like she wished to speak, but couldn't. Her fingers had become white around the knuckles from the tightened grip around her bow hanging at her side. The huntress left slowly that way, backing up into the trees until she finally turned around, and ran. 

They were quiet for a moment after she had left until Derek sharply pulled the arrow from his back out with a grunt, causing Stiles to cringe.

“God, stop it with the arrows!” he yelped.

Derek finally broke his silence with an exasperated sigh and a roll of his now normal coloured eyes. One finger poked Stiles roughly in the chest. “Next time, you’re staying with Scott.” The older man turned away and began to limp back the way they had came, wolfsbane still slowing his healing.

“Hey, you’d be dead if it wasn't for me!” Stiles huffed and chased after him. Yeah, he’d probably be dead too if it wasn't for Derek, but that was hardly the point.


End file.
